Two hearts, one choice
by GotHimASandwich
Summary: Finch is nearly devastated when Grace's number is up. And a decision has to be made between Grace and Reese, and only Finch can make it.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I only recently got into Person Of Interest, my brother played an episode for me, and I've been immensely hooked ever since. Sorry for not coming out with any new chapters for my other stories, been spending a lot of time with my family. This is my first crack at a Person Of Interest fanfic, so hope you like it. And if you haven't seen it, it's a great show you're missing out on. This is a M/M fanfic between the two main male characters, so if that makes you uncomfortable, this isn't the story for you. Enjoy!**

**PS- There will be some minor details changed for the sake of this fanfic. I know what**

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"Good morning, Mr. Reese. I trust you've dealt with the little issue with the previous number by now?"

Finch, a short, well-dressed man spoke into what seems like thin air. His hand reaches down to pet a brown and black German Shepard, the dog's body shifting uneasily as he looked up at the human with the glasses. Finch was seated in front of a set of monitors, his eyes staring into a couple of the camera screens that he'd brought up on one monitor, the others monitoring police radio, a GPS locator in his partner's phone. The man he was eyeing was Mr. Reese, a former CIA operative who, only recently, was employed by the man who gives him numbers of people who are either in danger, or causing it. On occasions, Mr. Reese has expressed gratitude to the short, funny-looking man. If it hadn't been for Mr. Finch, as Reese calls him every now and then, Reese would remain a homeless drunk that'd likely end up dead in an alley way. Mr. Finch was watching Reese combating 3 armed men, about the same build and fighting style as Reese, all using close-combat weapons of poor taste and quality, Finch mumbles to himself. He watches admirably as the slightly salt-and-peppered hair man moves with such dexterity, avoid blows here and there, but a few landing their marks. He always winces, he hates the sound of blows landing, especially if he doesn't know who is landing them on who. But he feels more at ease, able to watch as Reese knocks out one guy with a bat, and another with a knife. The third seemed to be more difficult, seemingly avoid almost every hit, and landing each one. Reese knocks him against a brick wall, one arm pinning the hand with the knife against his body in a safe manner, his other hand tapping at his right ear, opening communications.

"Finch, you can see all good and well that it's not resolved. Whatever it is can wait, a little tied up."

Reese lost a little bit of his footing, enough for his assailant to push him back, but instead of a knife, Finch sees an all too familiar weapon brandished, one he despises more than anything.

"John, be careful. He has a handgun, a .45 by the looks."  
"Finch, you think I don't see it? If you don't like to watch the fights I get into, there's plenty of channels you could watch. Why not start with researching our next number, assuming that's why you called?" Reese remains still, calculating the most effective way to disarm and KO the man, his greyish blue eyes darting around in a growing panic.  
"Yes, Mr. Reese, another number has come up. I'm sure our friends Carter and Fusco are more than capable of handling themselves. We'll be in touch."

Finch tapped his right ear, closing the com links between them. He kept the cameras running in the background as he began working to resolve the issue with the new number The Machine gave. It wasn't long before Finch figured out the owner of the number, his eyes slowly widening in terror as he realizes who it belongs to. The one person he strives to avoid, not out of fear for his life, but their's. Also, the only person he wants to hold close in his arms. The printer comes to life as it prints out a picture of a person, a woman by her curves, an artist by the easel she carried, a red-haired woman who paints. Harold collapses in the office chair, fear overtaking his body at the gravity of his situation. He taps his ear, hoping to hear the soft, rugged voice of the man who knows him best without needing to know much. He hears a gunshot as soon as the line opens, his breath stops and his heart ceases to beat. He hears nothing for a minute, the worst minute of his life. He looks over at the computer hosting the video feed from the camera best focused on John's situation. Finch looks at a rather large fellow slumped to the ground, and another man in a well-tailored suit on his hands and knees, one hand clutching his side.

"What, Finch?"  
"Mr. Reese, are you alright? I heard the gunshot when I called you." Finch was worried about his dear friend, one of a very few number of people he even talks to willingly, let alone trust and care for. He could tell John was shot as well, he cursed himself for not watching the cameras closely.  
"Fine, it was just me taking care of business, as usual." He is such a liar, Finch thought.  
"What about you, are you injured?"

John groaned, Finch watched him struggling to stand up, his hand still over his side as he watches him turn around. It's evident to Finch that Mr. Reese is far from okay, judging from the growing red stain on his perfectly form-fitting shirt, clinging more to the body within its cloth.

"Nope, I'm dandy. Now, what's up with this new number? Must have you spooked to call me back within a minute of the last call."  
"Nothing, Mr. Reese, I'm..." Finch can barely keep his composure, unable to complete his next sentence without tears escaping from his eyes, "I'm more concerned about the gunshot wound you sustained on your left side. Go by Madeline's before you come back to the library. I need you, for this next number, but don't overdo it."

With that, Finch closed the link between the two phones. He could hear Bear whimper as he concealed his face within the palm of his hands. He knew, for Grace's sake, that he could not be involved in the number. There was no way possible she could see him, after all this time of her believing he was dead. If she realized that her Harold was still alive...well, it was just another life that he had put in danger...

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**A/N: Sorry, I wasn't quite sure how to end this. I wasn't intending for this to be a chapter story, just a single story, but things happen. I have too many ideas for how this could go, lol. Let me know what you think about it?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for the positive feedback, I'm glad my first POI fanfic is a (what I would consider) success. I know I'm not the best person with grammar, but I will try my best to make sure it improves. I also notice that some people wanted Finch and Reese to pair up, and others wanted Finch and Grace to get together. So I had an idea to create two chapters, effectively the same, but each with a different ending, Finch/Reese being one and Finch/Grace being the other. If anybody is up for that idea or thinks it's good or otherwise, leave me a feedback and let me know. Without further ado, here is chapter 2. Hope you like it, and as always, leave me feedback and let me know if you like it, or otherwise.**

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Finch attempts to reel in the unsettling reality that the woman, whom he let go to save, and the man, who now meant everything to him, were both in danger. He barely manages to snap together, slowing returning to the stoic-faced man with a broken body. He keeps careful tabs on Grace and Reese, dialing Detective Carter as he desperately tried to maintain the calm and collective composure he's known to have.

"Hello?" Carter answers the phone in a quietened tone, Finch knew that she only spoke so quietly neutral when other detectives at her precinct were around.  
"Carter, no time for chit-chat, I need your's and Detective Fusco's help. It is of the utmost importance."

There was a brief moment of silence on her end as the typical noise of the precinct slowly quietens down. Carter signals Fusco to follow behind her as they duck into a coffee room, shutting the door to keep out unwanted ears and lessen the noise.

"Go ahead, Finch. Lionel's here, too. What's going on to get you riled up?" She asks, genuinely concerned. Lionel stares at her with a confounded look, a simple finger to the lips was enough for him to know it was serious.  
"I have a most unusual situation in which I am unable to handle alone. I have a new job for you two, but I cannot, under any circumstances, perform." Finch wills himself to maintain composure, but he feels it slipping away with each passing second.  
"What's up with this number? Why can't you do it?" Lionel butts in, unable to keep silent which earns him a solid punch to his biceps, courtesy of Carter.

Finch loses it. Just the mere thought of losing the one woman he would've thrown everything away for, was enough for all of his carefully built walls to come crumbling down.

"It's Grace.."

Carter goes into full-blown detective mode. "Send me the address, we'll take care of it."

Finch hangs up the phone, quickly typing out her address, and all of the information he's gathered thus far, before emailing it directly to Carter's phone. He couldn't trust sending it to her inbox at the precinct, paranoia insisting that whoever was desperate to find him, who may be after his Grace, would catch wind of it. After he catches word that Fusco and Carter are working out why Grace came up, he takes a moment to compose himself once more. Bear became alert when he notices whimpers coming from one of his masters. Harold had buried his face deeply in his tiny, shaky hands.

Harold wasn't one to show emotions, even when the only being around to witness such even was a four-legged protector. But in a situation like the one he unwillingly found himself in, he felt just in letting tears fall freely from behind his small glasses. One person was someone he saw himself growing old with, loving her more with every passing moment, someone he gave up his future with so they could have one. The other...well, John was unique to him. Finch admits, though only to himself, that initially, he only brought John into his operation because Finch was, let's say, less than adequate to handle the physical portion of the work. Never planned on wanting to know Mr. Reese on a personal level, to know things that The Machine couldn't trace or track down, things that only a human being could uncover. It became evident, after several close calls with their lives that Finch had felt a deeper connection with John, after he was shot by his former CIA boss, after being sent to Riker's, almost killed by his former partner with the bomb vest, and when Finch was forced by Root to find where The Machine was located. Each and every one of those events drew the two men closer than either realized or dared to.

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It had been hours, now, since Harold had heard anything from Madeline, about how John was doing. Finch extended his hand to reach his phone, when it began buzzing in his pocket. He was hoping it'd be either Madeline or Carter with good news.

He taps his headset to connect the call, "Finch."  
"Finch, it's Carter, we may have a situation."

This was not the call he wanted. Finch didn't want to hear about 'a situation', because that meant they found something incriminating or horrible.

"What's wrong, Carter?"  
"Someone's trying to break in. Grace is safe, she's hiding upstairs but there's guys casing the house all over looking for a weak spot. We're gonna take her to a safe place, but she might need your help on this."

Finch ends the call, anxiety rising high in his soul. Whoever was after Finch, whoever had killed Nate, now were attempting to take, and it was only a matter of time before they finally had what they were looking for all these years. Harold was in the process of putting together a safe route, and a possible house to hide in. Finch didn't exactly trust the safe houses the police used, too easy to find and break into. His phone buzzed a second time, an inkling that this call was Madeline.

"Yes, Madeline?"  
"We have to move John to an actual hospital. I stabilized him, but he's going to need additional surgery that requires teams and better equipment, stuff I just don't have the funds to acquire, nor the space for it."

Finch was hoping, in that small corner of his body, that he could avoid a hospital stay with John. They ask too many questions and police are going to get involved with it.

"Just do what you have to, I have to go."

He hangs up once again, his head spinning with the horrid reality crashing around him. John was in dire need of medical attention, apparently the bullet caused more damaged than what was first thought of. There's a good chance John wouldn't pull through, he could tell that was Madeline's thought from the way her voice was rushed and high-pitched. This was not good, nothing seemed to go in the slightest bit well. Harold had to hurry, prioritize his time now, because time may be running out...

For Grace. For John. For both.

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**AN: Sorry for the rushed job, I was out of town, then got sick as I was coming home. Add kids and school on top of it, and you have a cocktail of insanity lol. I know it's not that good, but I'm setting it up for a split job, where Finch starts deciding who he helps and who he decides is time to go. It might be a good while before the next chapter comes out, but some things are better over time :).**


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